Vignettes Going Nowhere
by BirdG
Summary: There is nothing wrong with the name Hyperion."


**Author's Note: **Written for a fic but then I decided I wanted to do something else entirely. I spell it Asteria because that's how JKR spells it on the Weasley family tree.

* * *

"_Hyperion_? Do you hate our unborn child?"

Asteria narrowed her eyes at him, her arm coming to rest protectively over her swollen belly. "There is nothing wrong with the name Hyperion."

"The other children will call him something awful like 'Hype' just before they hex him and steal his pocket money." The only thing he could say for the name was that it was better than her previous suggestion of Coeus but still worse than 'Iason', the name she had favored only a month before.

"They won't have to call him 'Hype', they could call him something else like 'Ion' or..." her voice trailed off as she tried to salvage a nickname from her suggestion. Draco just shook his head and his wife scowled. "Well, it's a sight better than Scorpius. God forbid he's a Chaser or, worse, a Keeper who's not very good at Keeping. They'll start calling him 'Score'. Score Malfoy let the Quaffle in. Way to go, Score!"

"They will not call him 'Score' and he will not be a Keeper, he'll be a Seeker like I was." At his wife's sour look, he hastily added, "And like his mother was."

"Fine," she said, in a tone that told Draco it was anything but. "Hyperion can be his middle name. Scorpius Hyperion."

The only thing that had been a bigger source of contention than the first name was the middle name. Even though she insisted that she was not sold on 'Scorpius', he knew better. Her suggestions of other possible first names were just how she began negotiations for the middle name.

"I think they go well together," Asteria continued, a look of determination of her face. "The Titan of light. It will balance out the name Scorpius."

Another problem she had with Scorpius for a name was how "dark" and "harsh" it was, part of the appeal for Draco. A Coeus had his books knocked out his arms before being shoved into the wall but no one would dare attempt the same thing with a Scorpius.

"Lucius means light too, you know. So Scorpius Lucius Malfoy would do the same thing while still meeting my family's tradition of..." Draco's voice trailed off at her expression.

"If you want to name him after _your_ father than we must name him after _my_ father as well: Linus Lucius Malfoy."

It was an abomination; worse than Coeus. It was the name of some sad-sack ne'er-do-well whom Draco would never have to worry about playing Keeper because Linus Malfoy couldn't _even_ fly.

Pushing back her dark hair with a graceful flick of her hand, Asteria idly added, "And the alliteration is nice, isn't it? Linus Lucius."

Now she was just mocking him. She had hated his earlier suggestion of "Scorpius Summanus" partly because of the alliteration.

"His nickname can be Lilu!" she cried with exaggerated delight.

"You are a sadist."

Asteria laid down her trump card. "I'm the one carrying this child, I should get a say in the name, don't you think?"

"Of course." He should have accepted Iason while he still had the chance. Realizing that pushing this would not only serve to annoy Asteria further but also risk his son being named _Linus Coeus Malfoy_, Draco chose surrender. "Scorpius Hyperion it is is." 

***~*~***

Grabbing the lump of clay, Scorpius pushed and pounded it till it was almost flat. Still not satisfied, he slammed his fists against the soft material with relish, seemingly intent on making a thin sheet from it.

"Need help?" Draco asked, watching his son with amusement.

"No," Scorpius answered cheerfully, biting his lip as he continued. As soon as it had the consistency of a cheap piece of parchment, Scorpius rolled it up, stretching and pulling it till he had an misshapen square with tendrils of clay trailing down the sides. Evidently, this had been exactly what he had intended. Reaching for the toy wand that had come with the clay, he tapped his creation twice and it hardened enough that Scorpius wouldn't have to worry about marring his work with finger indents.

Draco watched as his son painted his masterpiece, covering it in all the colors available until it was a muddy brown with green and purple blotches. Aiming a nonverbal _Terego_ at the clear puddle on the table, he reckoned he was lucky that the paint only worked on the clay or else both the table and his son would be in need of a wash by now.

"Done," Scorpius proclaimed proudly. He held out the clump. "Tell me about it."

Last week, Asteria and her sisters had taken Scorpius and his cousins to some children's fair at the Muggle Art Museum. His son had been quite taken with the modern _art_, producing tons of random squiggles and odd blobs of clay before handing them to Draco for his expert opinion.

Taking the sad little box from his son, Draco held it in his palm, studying it. "Now, let us see. The shape represents the artist's longing for freedom while the colors speak to his inner conflict. He longs for adventure and excitement but also enjoys the comforts of home, such as being seated in front of the radio, while drinking hot chocolate and listening to _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_."

Rolling his eyes, Scorpius laughed. "You're being silly, Daddy. _The Adventures of Martin Miggs_ is on a break for the holidays."

"Ah." He handed the sculpture back to his son who immediately tapped it with the toy wand again, rendering it pliable once more. "Speaking of the holidays, have you finished your Christmas list yet?"

"I'm still working on it," he said with a note of frustration; whether it was at the question or the clay underneath his palms, Draco couldn't tell. "I have a lot to think about."

After last year's five-foot-long list, Draco was morbidly curious if his son would top himself this year.

"Can I have a house-elf?" Scorpius asked suddenly, looking up at his father.

Asteria entered the room, raising an eyebrow at Draco as she took a sip from her coffee mug.

"You know your mother's afraid of them."

She scowled and their son looked exasperated. "No she's not."

Sometimes Draco suspected she was. Not many families had owned house-elves and that included the Greengrasses. Mrs. Greengrass had run the home herself with the occasional assistance from the hired help. Asteria and her sisters were expected to keep their own rooms neat and his wife was determined that things should be the same for Scorpius. She didn't want him to become spoiled. Draco hardly had the heart to tell her that ship had sailed a long time ago.

"What would you need a house-elf for?"

Scorpius shrugged, rolling the clay underneath his hands. "To clean my room and do my chores for me."

Draco avoided meeting his wife's gaze, sure she would be radiating smug triumph at this admission. "I'm sure you'll manage on your own."

***~*~***

"I feel like I'm rubbing a Buddha statue for good luck," Draco said as he applied the cream to her stomach, lingering over her baby bump. For a moment, he imagined he could feel their daughter move.

He'd come to regret that he'd spent her first pregnancy in a daze of worry and excitement, only waking from it with Scorpius' birth. It was only after that he found he missed how she had looked then; cheeks rosy, breasts full, and her body heavy with his child.

Asteria smiled. "Did you make a wish then?"

Draco opened his mouth, fully intending to tell her just what he'd been thinking about when he heard the sound of someone shuffling past the door, talking as they did. He sighed. "Yes, I wished for Scorpius to drop that stupid mirror. Unfortunately, it sounds as if it's yet to come true."

Their son had returned home from his second year four inches taller, permanantly sullen, and with his two-way mirror stuck to his hand. Draco hated the Weasleys for mass producing those wretched things. All of Scorpius' little friends had them and it gave him an endless supply of people to talk to who were not his parents.

"It's only been a week. He misses his friends," she said gently. From the look on her face, however, he could tell she felt similarly.

"A week? I'll tell you how this holiday will go: Scorpius will spend most of it either in his room or out with his friends. When he is at home, he will either be talking on that thing or stuffing his face." Frowning, he watched as she buttoned up her blouse. "I swear, between the two of you I'm afraid to reach for anything at the dinner table lest I draw back a stub."

She gave him a small push with her foot, rolling her eyes even as she smiled. "I think they're still selling tickets for the Cannons game next weekend. We should take Scorpius. It'd be nice to do something as a family."

"I suppose I can suffer through the Cannons for an afternoon."

Pushing herself up from the couch, she kissed him along his jaw, whispering against his skin, "I'm glad to hear that."

He captured her mouth with his, pushing her back down on the couch as his tongue moved against hers. Pulling away, Draco murmured, "How glad?"

"Very," she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm very, very glad."

Careful not to put all her weight on her, he kissed Asteria again; reveling in the brush of her breasts against his chest and the sound of her soft sighs. As much as he loved having his son home again, he missed having the house to themselves. Slipping a hand into the collar of her shirt, Draco trailed kisses down her throat while his hand slid lower, coming to rest over her left breast.

"Oi, Mum, can I--" Draco looked up in time to catch a glance of his son's disgusted face before he turned and quickly left the room, muttering to the mirror in his hand. "_Gross_. I just walked in on them. I think I'm blind."

With a groan, Draco buried his face in the couch cushion. "I am going to break that bloody mirror if it's the last thing I do."


End file.
